


The End of All Things

by SuccubusYuri



Category: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 14:00:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16893966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuccubusYuri/pseuds/SuccubusYuri
Summary: Hope and Despair, both meet in this place of memories and magical girls.





	The End of All Things

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written to celebrate the release of "Rebellion", thus non-canon with that work.

Dread was a feeling I was unaccustomed to.

After all, I was Hope. I exist to bring light to the dark places.

But this was too dark for me. Yet my duty to perform demands that I fulfill this task.

It is hard to explain how I see despair. When a girl falls into it, I see all of it. The images that lead to her suffering. The faces of the ones she loved. The very color of the world as it warps around her, like a veil has been placed and the bright world we love grows dim. This always saddened me, and still does. In the flash of an instant, I can see all of the things that lead her to the crossroads of Despair. How the noblest intentions had given under the weight of themselves, and brought them crashing down.

When I became Hope for all those girls, I wasn’t truly thinking about the consequences. I didn’t conceive, while saving them from sadness, that eventually, I would have to see my friends at their lowest moment.

I am timeless and ageless. To my mind, I only made my wish a few moments ago. I had lunch, and gone to save Homura. The Incubator was there, and granted my wish. Now I feel like it’s almost dinner time. And yet I am fully aware that centuries have passed that I have taken my duty to expunge Despair from the hearts of all Magical Girls.

I particularly remember a certain girl, also from Japan. She was older than I. Or rather, older than I had been when mortal. She had been forced to kill someone she loved. Her Despair was potent. She was willing to give into it. Not just surrender, but embrace Despair. The sensation was powerful. But I vowed to save her. Appearing before her, I took her hand, and reassured her that no matter where she went, love was always beside her. Her eyes were like black gems, watering up with all of her grief, and in that moment of regret, I was able to obtain her consent. I stood up, leveled my bow at her, and drew the string back, smiling at her. She returned the smile.

_Release._

I saved one more Magical Girl from her grief that day.

Beauty had always been a thing for me. I obsessed for hours on my Magical Girl outfit. Of course, now, it was very different than when I had envisioned it. My boots were long and elegant, adorned with feather-like cuts on the hems, like my gloves. My dress, though I’d have preferred pink, was now mostly white, almost like a wedding dress. I even manifested wings when I had power. It may sound silly, but it’s every bit important to look the part of salvation as it is to be it. First impressions are important, after all. And I only had one chance with Magical Girls.

At the very least, my pink hair was long, flowing, radiant. I felt almost as beautiful as her.

I often saw the Labyrinths that would have formed in my old world when a girl is about to surrender. They had terrified me as a naive girl. But now, they seemed like amusing distractions. Art in their own way. They really fascinated me. Until this moment. I recognized these images.

There was another girl that strikes my memory now. From America. She had tried to save her lover from going off to war. And she succeeded, he had been given a reprieve. But then the armies came through the countryside. They no longer fought on battlefields. In an effort to protect her, her lover was shot for resisting. She used her powers for terrible things. The way she hung the soldier’s bodies from the trees…

I was powerless to stop the small evils that occurred before grief overwhelmed them. My power was only to stop them from final destruction. Sayaka had been that way, as well. I had seen her murder innocents in her Despair. But I could only intervene at the very last moment. Still, her life was a good one. She had saved people. Like this American girl had. One darkness towards the end can’t undo it all. I can’t believe that.

And like Sayaka, the American Magical Girl regretted her actions. She willingly laid herself open for me. So I placed my hands on her Soul Gem, and concentrated. The small, glowing egg filling with shadows. Hers had been a lime green. The distortion of black and purple was consuming it. I assured her there was always Hope.

_Release._

Another witch ended as the girl’s soul gem shattered, and her body grew limp as she died. At peace. Redeemed.

I knew this witch. I knew who I was to end today. A witch of storms and death. Of shadowy Magical Girls. Of a clockwork dress and a shrill, bitter laugh. Like a shriek of someone who had cried so much, they had given into mad laughter.

Walpurgisnacht.

I had wondered how long it would be before I encountered her again. I knew she was out there, waiting. I had to stop her. It was the only way to ultimately save my friends. She was the cause of all their suffering, and while I wanted to save all Magical Girls, the true, deep motive behind it, was my friends. All of our grief was rooted in her. In Walpurgisnacht.

But this was only the outermost layer. She would never fall into a Witch. I made sure that none could. The images of Walpurgisnacht only exist as an abstract, now. A shadowy illusion of what might have been in my old world.

I prepared myself to dive deeper, closer to the center of this girl’s grief. I always saw images of her family at this point. Of her loved ones. Those she made her wish for.

That was when I truly felt dread. Because I knew who I was dealing with now. I think, perhaps, I had always known. The Clockwork Witch. The Witch who, irrevocably, was always drawn to me. Always she charged straight at the community center. Why? Deep down I knew. I knew this witch. She knew me. I finally confirmed the truth within the maze of images that laid her soul bare before me. Images of the lost loved ones that told me the story of her grief. Images of everything that led to her becoming a Magical Girl, that led to her Despair.

Images of me.

I found her quite unlike the other girls. They had been exhausted, collapsed. Always fighting until the end with their last breath. She seemed more serene. Sitting upright, eyes closed, like a samurai awaiting the order to commit her harakiri.

And for that moment, I paused. A pause that seemed to me to last as long as all the eternity I had been giving girls Hope.

“Homura…”

The girl with long, black hair, tied with a familiar red ribbon, slowly opened her purple eyes to look at me. She was in her Magical Girl outfit. Her thigh high boots were somewhat torn. A long tear lengthwise down her thigh. Her soul gem rested on her hand. The dark purple, a lovely shade of twilight, had been almost entirely consumed by blackness.

She was still so tall and elegant. A body that was graceful, and yet brimmed with power unlike any other. I had always found her cool and amazing.

“You,” was all she said, her voice a reverent whisper.

I couldn’t help but stare. Our eyes were locked for another eternity. I had so much I wanted to say to her. And yet…this was too cruel.

I had hoped that by wishing myself to this state, Homura would not be compelled to save me. Without me to save, she would have never become a Magical Girl. She could have lived a normal life.

That had been my hope, at least.

But some things are pre-ordained. In the same way Homura had created me, in her endless quest to save me, so, too, did my wish to balance hers out create a Magical Girl stronger than any other in this new world. When the Incubator demanded my wish, my only thought had been of the best way to save Homura.

So I rewrote the laws of the universe. For her. For Homura.

And all that karma, all that destiny, it wrapped around her like a prison. Just as she had done to me. She was destined to be a Magical Girl, no matter the circumstances.

Her expression still had not changed. It was that same cool, emotionless calm I had adored in school. My hands fumbled with themselves, nervously wringing my hands.

“Madoka?” she finally broke the silence.

I blinked at her in surprise, “Y-yes. You remember me?”

“Remember?” she asked quizzically. “I…I have seen you. Since I was a little girl. You’re the one…the one who saves Magical Girls.”

I smiled at her, “I am!” _No. She’s not my Homura. Not as I remember her._ I wanted to cry at the realization. If Homura couldn’t be saved from this fate, surely she could have at least been my Homura. Fate was too cruel today.

She only took a heavy sigh, closing her eyes again and relaxing visibly. Her voice was direct, yet sad, as I think it always had been. “I need to be saved.”

I nodded. She was still Homura, and I could see all the good she had done. I kneeled down in front of her, so I could look her in the eye. I held her face in my hands. That face…so beautiful. I idolized it, I wanted to be her back then. I couldn’t stop the blush from spreading up my cheeks.

She peeked an eye at me, “You seem…different, from how I imagined.”

I briefly grinned, but it snapped back into my nervousness almost instantly, “Different how?”

“Well, that is,” she tried to pick out her words, probably trying not to be rude, “you’re like a Goddess, aren’t you? You seem so nervous, though. Not like I’ve seen you in my dreams. Elegant. Proud. Determined. Are you really the same person?” she asked in conclusion.

I blushed even harder, “Well…I…uh…” I fumbled with my words as my eyes averted contact. She raised an eyebrow at me, suspicious. “You’ve always been special to me, Homura-chan,” I added.

She seemed taken aback by this, “Homura…chan?” This time she blushed.

I nodded, “That’s right. My very best friend. The best friend I ever had.” my insides burned, demanding more from her. My heart demanded she show me my Homura.

I saw them then. Those tears. Those same tears from that day in her room. “I’m so tired…Madoka…” she threw herself into my arms, her body cradled into my chest.

I wrapped my arms around her, cradling her against me, nuzzling my head into her hair, “Shhh, I know. I see it all,” I told her. She didn’t know yet, but I did. Not just this lifetime, but all of them. The years she spent trying to save me. All of it. Every last moment passed before my eyes. “You’ve been fighting for so long. So much longer than anyone should have to,” I stroked her hair. I saw the earliest of times. She was happy then. I made her happy. I can’t fathom why. “Joy is so far away, isn’t it?” I asked, still brushing her hair with my fingertips. “I see it, though. There is joy and peace for you. That’s why I’m here, to give you that peace.”

She gripped my dress tightly, almost enough to tear the fabric, had it been a normal dress, “Please,” was all she could whisper.

Like all the Magical Girls before her. I saw the Soul Gem on the back of her hand discolor completely to black. It was what I’d taken to calling “the Moment”. It was an instant in space-time between the Magical Girl and witch, the moment where I intervened. It was also the moment where I could set them at rest. The moment I could show them the consequences of their wishes. As I had for Sayaka.

But for Homura, no such description was necessary. The proof of her value was before her. She sat upright. She looked at me, her eyes still wet, but I saw her. She saw me, as well. The real me, not this Goddess she thought of. She saw all the times she had tried to save me. And despite the calm, cool exterior, I saw the joyful girl who adored me, for reasons even beyond my understanding.

I saw my Homura one last time.

She nodded, raising her hand to cover her face. She was offering it to me. It was my duty, after all.

I stood up, and took a step back. My heart sank into my stomach. I was happy to save her from Despair. But, there was so much I wanted to share. So much I wanted to tell her. So much I had been waiting to tell her. Because I had seen everything. I had seen her love. It was a love I was unworthy of.

I threw my arm down at my side, and my bow appeared. Elegant, made of angelic feathers. The pink energy of the string pulled back. An equally pink and ethereal arrow fitted the bow.

I had seen my Homura. My precious Homura. My beloved Homura.

I pulled the string back until it was taut. I felt the bow bend in resistance. It was ready for me. For my duty. That for this one instant, sickened me.

I was grateful for the fact she had her eyes closed and hidden behind her palm. I didn’t want her to see the tears. My fingers trembled on the shaft. My muscles were frozen. There was so much more I wanted for her. For us. I strained my throat, caught up tight with a knot. I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came. With a despaired sigh I forced my voice out, a weak whimper, as it squeezed around the lump in my throat to reach her heart.

“I love you.”

_Release._


End file.
